


Stick Around (And See This Night Through)

by sunsetmog



Series: See This Night Through [1]
Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Community: schmoop_bingo, M/M, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-17
Updated: 2010-10-17
Packaged: 2017-10-31 02:40:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/338983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsetmog/pseuds/sunsetmog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hey," Jackson says, grabbing Aaron's sleeve. "Hang on. You want anything to read on the plane?"</p>
<p>Jackson and Aaron go on holiday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stick Around (And See This Night Through)

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](http://sunsetmog-fics.livejournal.com/58597.html) in October 2010.
> 
> Written for the schmoop_bingo prompt: holiday. Takes place during Aaron and Jackson's holiday in Lanzarote. Or rather, in the airport lounge prior to taking off.

"Hey," Jackson says, grabbing Aaron's sleeve. "Hang on. You want anything to read on the plane?"

Aaron just makes a face, which Jackson presumes is actually Aaron's attempt at an answer.

"I know, I know, stupid question." Jackson says, rolling his eyes. "Well, okay, how about you hang about and look pretty whilst I pick something out to read on the plane instead, then?"

The departure lounge at Leeds and Bradford airport is hardly a hotspot of things to do, and they have time to kill before their flight. There's a WH Smith kiosk, a perfume outlet and a bar. There isn't exactly a question of where Aaron would rather be if he could pick one of them, Jackson knows. 

"But," Jackson says, "If you're a really good boy I'll buy you some sweets for the plane, okay?"

Aaron stuffs his hands into his pockets and wrinkles his nose. 

That's cuter than it should be, Jackson thinks, and for a moment he contemplates finding somewhere with no one around so he can kiss him, but Jackson's fairly sure that Aaron would hate it, even so. He stuffs his hands in his pockets instead, and raises his eyebrows. 

"You're mad, you," Aaron says.

Jackson just hums in response and catches the eye of the shop assistant in WH Smith. "Hey," he says, "Where'd you keep your _Gay Times_?"

When he turns around, Aaron's gone, but it's not like Jackson expected anything else. He buys him the _Top Gear_ magazine anyway, even though Aaron doesn't exactly read for fun. Jackson's never seen him read so much as the back of the cereal box. He picks himself out a novel, one that looks as close to the storyline of _Die Hard_ as possible, a bottle of coke, a bottle of water, some Polo mints and a BLT sandwich, and then he hands over the cash and goes to find Aaron in the pub. 

Aaron's grabbed a table at that back, by the fruit machine. Jackson wonders idly if he has any change, or if there's one of those quiz machines with Hangman on. He's pretty good at Hangman, and can usually win back the cost of a pint. He wonders if there's time.

"Got you one in," Aaron says, nudging a bottle of Carlsberg across the table. 

"Good stuff," Jackson says. He dumps the Smiths bag on the table, and takes a gulp. It isn't as cold as it should be, but it's a drink. He can't complain. 

Aaron eyes the Smiths bag warily, like Jackson's copy of the _Gay Times_ is going to self-destruct, or even worse, somehow light up and float up into the air above their heads and tell the whole departure lounge that Aaron's gay. 

"You can read it later, if you want," Jackson says, mildly, because being with Aaron is all about picking your battles, and this isn't one of them. They should at least wait until they've taken off before they have their first argument of the holiday, he thinks. 

"No thanks," Aaron says. He's already drunk most of his beer. He fiddles with the label for a moment before squaring his shoulders. "So, what's this place you've booked for us like?"

Jackson doesn't say _gay-friendly_ , which is what the brochure said. "Near to the pubs," he says, "and not far from the beach."

Aaron nods. "Great," he says, and ducks his gaze back to the label on his beer bottle. He picks at the corner with one finger. 

"You ever been there before?" Jackson asks. Under the table, the toe of his trainer bumps Aaron's. Aaron goes still for a moment, staring resolutely at his beer bottle, but then his gaze flicks to Jackson's, just for a moment. Under the table, Aaron moves his foot just a little, enough that he's touching Jackson's shoe with the side of his trainer. It's probably as close to a public display of affection as Aaron's going to get. 

"Went to Benidorm once," Aaron says, after a pause. "When I was fourteen."

Jackson is very aware just how little Aaron refers to his life before he came to live with Paddy. Jackson doesn't push it. He doesn't have a very high opinion of Aaron's dad's parenting skills, though, that's for sure. Even his dad was better, up until the point where he wasn't.

"Never been there," Jackson says, because thinking about how things went with his dad is a waste of time. Doesn't change anything. "Went to Malaga once, though." He makes a face. "Mum's choice."

Aaron nods. "My dad picked Benidorm," he says. He shrugs uncomfortably. "He just got drunk a lot. Might as well have been at home."

Jackson very carefully does not point out that that's the most Aaron's ever told him about his dad. He also makes a point of not telling Aaron how crap his dad is. He's not even sure if Aaron still talks to him, but he definitely hadn't been at Aaron's court case. Jackson reckons that means no. Aaron has Paddy now, anyway. 

"I plan on getting you drunk," Jackson says, because there are certain points in conversations with Aaron where there really has to be a change of subject. 

Aaron raises an eyebrow. "You what?"

"Yeah," Jackson says. "I'm going to get you drunk." He winks. 

"What for?" Aaron asks, because Aaron clearly has no imagination. Jackson has enough for the both of them, thankfully. He nudges Aaron's foot with his own, which is as close to saying, 'so _you'll relax and stop worrying about who might see us, and I can have my wicked way with you'_ as he can manage in public. "So I can get you on the dance floor," he lies. 

Aaron makes a face. "I don't dance," he says. 

Jackson laughs. "Holidays don't count," he says. "Everyone dances like an idiot on holiday. It's in the rules, or something. He makes an attempt at shimmying in his seat, just to make Aaron laugh. It works, and Aaron grins, shoving at Jackson with his hand. 

"You're embarrassing, you."

"Wait until you see me on the dance floor," Jackson confides. "You haven't seen anything yet."

Aaron looks doubtful. 

"Wounded, I am," Jackson tells him, clapping a hand to his heart. "You don't believe in my dancing skills."

"I believe you're mad," Aaron says.

Jackson grins, because this is how it works between them, these are the roles that they've fallen into, and sometimes it just _works_ and Jackson's happy. He's going on holiday with his boyfriend, and he's _happy_. 

"Hey," Aaron says, elbowing Jackson and pointing at the screen hanging down from the ceiling. Next to their flight number it says, _go to gate_. "Time to go."

"Drink up, then," Jackson says, tapping out a rhythm with his palms against his thighs. He grins, just because he can. 

Aaron drinks up and drops his bottle back down on the table. "Ready?" he says. 

"Ready," Jackson agrees, and Aaron grins at him, just for a moment relaxed and happy and open. 

On the plane, there's a moment where they're by themselves, with no one around. Aaron hesitantly touches at Jackson's knee with his hand. "Thanks," he says. "For letting me come."

Jackson's mouth curves up into a smile. "Glad you said yes, Livesy," he says. It's as close to _I think I'm in love with you_ as he can manage. 

[end]


End file.
